Before choosing a title for your book, you might want to do an Internet search on the title you have in mind. Your title may or may not be unique. Although titles are not copyrighted, you need to make sure that your book isn’t confused with another by the same or similar name.

To be honest, I never thought to “google” the title of my novel. I knew from the beginning that it would be “The Prince in the Tower.” I chose the title before (or soon after) I started writing. The title is a reference to the main character, a fictional preacher who happens to be a John Gilbert look-alike.

Even after I finished writing “The Prince in the Tower” and had it formatted for Kindle, I still didn’t think to “google” the title. I had already chosen the subtitle, “A Modern Gothic Romance.” And it’s a good thing I did.

Once the book was published, I noticed the title was in no way unique. In fact, “the prince in the tower” or “the princes in the tower” brings to mind the hapless nephews of Richard III. Check out “The Prince in the Tower” on Amazon.com, and you’ll see what I mean.

Not only did I choose an overused title, but the book cover features the Tower of London where the nephews were imprisoned.

Fortunately, my subtitle sets the book apart from books under the same heading. I can even change the subtitle as long I use a different ISBN. Without the subtitle, you can’t be sure if a book like mine is fiction, non-fiction, or historical fiction.

One of my favorite flowers is oxalis. I never knew the flower existed until I read about it in ST. ELMO by Augusta Jane Evans. In the following paragraph, “Edna Earl” sees the flower and associates it with “St. Elmo Murray,” the man she is trying to resist.

Edna bent over her flowers, and recognizing many favorites that recalled the hothouse at Le Bocage, her eyes filled with tears, and she hastily put her lips to the snowy cups of an oxalis. How often she had seen just such fragile petals nestling in the buttonhole of Mr. Murray’s coat. (Page 290, ST. ELMO).

I was thinking about that and other passages in ST. ELMO when i wrote the following scene between “Effie Beller” and “Gideon Baldwin” on page 69 and 70 of THE PRINCE IN THE TOWER.

“When are you fixing to come home?”

“In a few days.”

“Oh.” Effie tried to hide her disappointment. “I hope you’ll have plenty of sunshine at the beach.”

“And delay my return?”

They were standing in the sun room, and he was preparing to leave through the back door. Impulsively she snatched a spray of oxalis from a ceramic pot and held it up to his lapel.

“What are you doing?”

“I’d like to put some flowers in your buttonhole if you don’t mind.”

“Why?”

“Because you remind me of someone.”

“Who?”

“St. Elmo.”

“I’m not a saint.”

“Neither was he.” With trembling fingers, she slipped the posy into his buttonhole and started to walk away, but he seized her arm and turned her around.

I brought oxalis into the story again when “Effie’s” antipathy for “Rev. Baldwin” was near its peak:

He crossed the room to his mother’s dresser and returned with a handful of tissues.

As she dried her eyes, she heard him say in a voice unaccountably sweet, “I often forget how sensitive you are. You remind me of that dainty flower you gave me when I was leaving for Conference. What was it?”

“Oxalis.”

“So incredibly small, so easily crushed. Sometimes you wilt before my eyes and make me wonder what I have said or done to cause it.” He paused for a moment, waiting for her to compose herself, and added, “Effie Belle. Despite your belief to the contrary, I am not entirely the ogre conceived in your imagination, and If I can help you in any way–“

Every flower has a special meaning–or so I thought. I based this belief on a book called “The Poetry of Flowers.” i was sure I could look up oxalis and find a romantic meaning. However, the flower is not even mentioned in the book.

Some refer to oxalis simply as “clover” or “a creeping weed,” hardly a romantic description of my hallowed plant. Finally, I learned that oxalis is a member of the wood sorrel family. Wood Sorrel means “Joy” and “maternal tenderness,” and that is an accurate description of the role that oxalis plays in THE PRINCE IN THE TOWER..

Often referred to as “shamrock,” oxalis is easy to find this time of year. I found two different types of oxalis in a St. Patrick’s Day display at the grocery store. My favorite is “snowy” oxalis, but you can also find oxalis with purple leaves and lavender flowers or with green leaves and pink flowers.

THE MERRY WIDOW (MGM, 1925), starring John Gilbert and Mae Murray, inspired the following scene between “Effie Butler” and her guardian, “Reverend Gideon Baldwin,” in Chapter 17 of THE PRINCE IN THE TOWER.

“So tell me about the Confederate ball.”

“Well . . . from what I understand, most of the men are re-enactors, so they’ll be wearing Confederate uniforms, and most of the ladies will be dressed like me. A band will play period pieces that we can dance to.”

“Can you waltz?”

“No, but I wish I could.”

“What time is your date?”

“Seven-thirty.”

“Good. I’ll teach you.”

He directed her to the center of the room and rearranged the furniture, clearing space beneath the chandelier. Then he turned the CD player on and as “The Merry Widow Waltz” began to play, bowed before her. “May I have this waltz?”

His kingly manner surprised her as she drifted into his arms and waited for him to begin. Effie tried to concentrate on the steps he was teaching her, but the scent of his aftershave and the touch of his hands were distracting. In attempting to follow his lead, she tripped over his foot. He laughed, so did she, and they resumed waltzing.

“Where did you learn to waltz, Mr. Baldwin?”

“In high school and my name is Gideon.” He smiled, revealing a perfect set of teeth, and Effie felt the full force of his magnetism.

Another day. Another storm. Another cardinal. This one usually flies away before I can take his photo, but I caught him off guard today.

I’m a dinosaur in a digital age. I don’t own a digital camera and haven’t bought any 35 mm film for my vintage camera in several years. (I wonder if film has become obsolete since i last bought it?) What would I do without a cell phone? It may not be a good camera, but it sure is convenient..

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How can anyone describe something as spectacular as a sunset? Nothing can take the place of a photograph, can it? Augusta J. Evans (1835-1909) creates a credible word picture of a sunset on page 116 of ST. ELMO, and the twilight that follows sets the eerie stage for the entrance of the Byronic protagonist “St. Elmo Murray.”.

The sun went down in a wintry sky; the solemn red light burning on the funeral pyre of the day streamed through the undraped windows, flushed the fretted facade of the Taj Mahal, glowed on the marble floor, and warmed and brightened the serene, lovely face of the earnest young student. As the flame faded in the West, where two stars leaped from the pearly ashes, the fine print of Edna’s book grew dim, and she turned the page to catch the mellow, silvery radiance of the full moon, which shinning low in the east, thew a ghastly lustre on the awful form and floating white hair of the Cimbrian woman on the wall. But between the orphan and the light, close beside her chair, stood a tall, dark figure, with uncovered head and outstretched hands.

She sprang to her feet, uttering a cry of mingled alarm and delight, for she knew that erect, stately form and regal head could only belong to one person.

“Oh, Mr. Murray! Can it be possible that you have indeed come home to your sad desolate mother? Oh! For her sake, I am so glad!”

It’s no secret that Augusta J. Evans is my favorite novelist and that ST. ELMO inspired me to write THE PRINCE IN THE TOWER.

The following passage is an excerpt from INFELICE, written by my favorite novelist, Augusta Evans Wilson (1835-1909).

“Walking to the window, he stood for some moments, with his hands folded behind him, and he noted the splendor of the spectacle presented by the risen sun shining upon temples and palaces of ice, prism-tinted domes and minarets, and burnishing after the similitude of silver stalactites and arcades which had built themselves into crystal campaniles, more glorious than Giotto’s,–the pastor said:–“The physical world just as God left it,–how pure, how lovely, how entirely good;–how sacred from His hallowing touch! Oh! that the world of men and women were half as unchangingly true, stainless, and holy.”